


when the night court begins to hunt

by made_of_lions_and_wolves333



Category: El Laberinto del Fauno | Pan's Labyrinth (2006)
Genre: F/M, Mythology - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-03
Updated: 2019-04-03
Packaged: 2020-01-01 08:03:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 626
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18331973
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/made_of_lions_and_wolves333/pseuds/made_of_lions_and_wolves333
Summary: It's a new moon and the Princess seeks solace in her main companion during a frightening night's sleep.





	when the night court begins to hunt

She can hear the little beasts slinking around just outside her chamber walls, which wasn’t far off.

Once again — like on other nights before this — she startles awake, disturbed by the sounds of dying weasels, birds, or mice being ripped apart for their meat. The unruly chewing and biting and splatter of fluids that follows is not comforting to her ears, especially when she was instructed by her Mother Queen to have a good rest for the upcoming events that next day.

But she has very little say in the matter; as unpleasant as this is, it was an ancient law and practice in their homeland. The creatures of the Night Court were allowed to hunt freely during the week of the New Moon. They are going to feast on animals slower and smaller than they, whether she cared for or not.

The Princess had relearned this fact earlier on, soon after her Final Coronation and Renaming.

 

 

Sighing, Moanna tosses, slipping out from the regal luxury of her bed on light practiced feet, sneaking pass the painted windows to reach her writing table.

She, in all honesty, has very little to fear at that moment. She had been told time and time again by her staff, that the Night Court would never think (or shouldn’t) show any real interest in capturing her. They will not break such an important Treaty by harming anyone from the palace, let alone a trueborn Princess of the Underground — it’d be unconceivable. But unlike her, none of her handmaids have ever physically seen the walking horror that is the Pale Man themselves— so as far as Moanna's concerned, her own cautions to avoid being eaten by any stray ravenous creatures are warranted.

Quietly opening the top drawer, she grabs her favored short piece of white salted chalk waiting inside among the textbooks and loose parchment. And Moanna naturally spins on her heel and faces the closest wall, tracing another large door-shaped line over its beautiful carved ridges since the previous door had been washed away by the handmaidens.

 

She knocks three times, willing the magic behind the ritual to take her to where she truly desires to go. The wall proceeds to shake a little, allowing the doorframe to take form, and the panel slowly swings wide open to grant her entrance. Crossing the threshold, Moanna descends the emerging staircase that appears before her, knowing every step by heart, until she finds the solid landing.

 

Just ahead there’s a nest of leaves, moss, and tangled roots coating the entire dome of the familiar cavern, from floor to ceiling, spiraling inwards in a beautiful piece of design. At its core, the Faun rests upon his earthy bedding. Moanna approaches his still form wordlessly but confidently, nestling down alongside him.

 

Her movements eventually cause him to stir from his slumber, but he does not protest. He simply moves an arm around her waist and holds her close once her cheek rests against his shoulder and her hand threads itself into his beard.

“You are safe, Your Highness,” he tells her, indulgingly, knowingily, and the words rumble deeply out from his chest. His own rough fingertips begin drawing light patterns and lines on her bared arm and around her lunar birthmark. “Nothing shall harm you here.”

 

She understands that no one owns the Faun. Not even the Heir and Princess of the Day Court, like herself, could ever tame him completely. She has already accepted the fact that she cannot physically keep him tucked neatly inside her own little pocket constantly and protectively. Still, she knows, privately, that he prefers to shadow her and please her purely by choice; and that unspoken vow comforts her more than anything else palace life could grant her.


End file.
